


This is The Office slander sir

by boofrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boofrey/pseuds/boofrey
Relationships: Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius sauntered into the office, a Nero’s cup in one hand and car keys in the other. He was very obviously hungover. 

“Morning sunshine.” Dorcas smiled at him from her perch at the front desk.

‘Happy Monday’ he grumbled back, forcing a genuine smile despite his pounding headache, “How are you so chirpy?”

“I’ll never reveal my secrets.” She obnoxiously placed one finger to her lips in an exaggerated shushing gesture. Sirius scowled and turned away to plonk himself down at his desk. Who the hell had suggested Sunday drinks? He honestly couldn’t remember, his memory foggy with regret. Glancing around the office he saw everyone was already hard at work, was he really that late, or did everyone in this godforsaken place just have no social life? He decided on the second option before booting up his computer and waiting for it to log on. Normally he maintained his mysterious persona very well in the office, the only one in his department, the only one without a dress code, the only one who suggested office drinks. But today he’d appeared to make last night events too obvious, as one of his coworkers leant down behind him to whisper “Good weekend Black?”

Snape. This early in the morning he had to deal with Snape? Despite his unclear memory of last night he knew he must have done something horrible to incur the wrath of God in this way.

Fake grin plastered on his face, trying to hide his pure disgust, Sirius whipped around. “Have you tried turning it on and off again Severus?”

“Come off it, firstly we’ve all seen the IT Crowd and that joke is wearing thin, and secondly I don’t have an issue with my computer right now Black, I just need the new card for my printer privileges”

“Of course.” Sirius tried to widen his grin even further, and hoped Snape could tell he was breathing through his mouth and actively blocking his nose. “I’ll put it on your desk by lunch.”

“Thank you” Snape stood up to his full height and walked away. ‘Thank God his desk is in the other section of the office,’ thought Sirius as he watched him pass through the door, fucking accountants, they just rubbed him up the wrong way.

——

Sirius leaned back in his chair to stretch his back, and decided to click it for extra good measure. He got a couple of dirty looks from those around him, and tilting his head back had altered the blood flow, making his already pounding headache worse. It was time for some paracetamol. 

“Hey Dee, Dolly, Diana, Dandelion, Draco, Dostoevsky, Dorcas?”

“Mmhm”

“You got any Paracetamol?” Sirius Knew Dorcas was the best bet, she normally carried a full chemists’ with her. 

“Yeah inside pocket of my handbag” She said, hoisting her bag onto the desk and picking up the phone. “Hogwarts branch 77 how may I direct your call?”

He retrieved the drugs (he always called them drugs, a schoolkid joke he’d forgotten to unlearn) and handed the bag back to Dorcas as she placed the receiver down.

“Hey, you haven’t seen Remus today have you?” 

Sirius realised quickly that he hadn’t, too consumed with shielding his eyes from the fluorescent bulbs and getting excited for lunch. A quick scan of the room confirmed he was nowhere to be seen. “No I guess I haven’t, he was in Friday right?”

“Yeah he was, someone he knew just called, said she’s gone into labour and all and he’s not even here”

“He’s having a baby and his wife calls him at work?”

“No love I think that was just a friend, maybe he’s her birthing coach or something.” Sirius tried not to laugh, he really did, but the image of the lanky tweed-wearing Remus coaching a woman through labour was too comedic to hold it in.

“Oh shut up Slyvester you don’t even know him that well.”

“I know him well enough to know he’d be a terrible birthing coach.”

“That much is fair, but still, I try and never laugh at people.”

“Desmond, Saturday last your nearly pissed yourself when Jack from sales spilt his soup over those white linen trousers.”

“It was the way he reacted! I can’t help finding a 50 something year old man screaming ‘Golly Gosh’ at spilt soup funny, and plus those trousers deserved it”

“Oh God didn’t they, at least wear the full suit if you’re going for a summer in 1930s Italy look.”

“Imagine still being here at 50, I couldn’t bear it Sam”

“Aw Danielle, you’ll find a strip club that’ll take you any day”

“Gee thanks.”

“You know I love you, now, where could Remus be whilst his friend is giving birth?” He tapped his chin in a mock inquisitorial gesture, but he was genuinely interested. He couldn’t remember a single day where Remus hadn’t shown up to work.

“Shit Sirius go back to your desk.”

Sirius turned around to catch Mr Horn glaring at him from his office doorframe. He stumbled over a couple chairs on his way back before collapsing in his chair. He took once glance over at Remus’ empty seat, one glance at Snape’s finished card, and waited a few moments to see if any emails or phone calls would come his way. None

‘Now, Remus Lupin, where could you be?’ he thought, opening up google.


	2. Walk of Shame

Remus woke cold, hungry and aching all over. He rolled over on the mattress with a groan and reached out to his phone. It was midday. “Fuck” he muttered, voice hoarse and throat dry. He unlocked his phone, the bright light scorching his eyes and saw 6 missed calls from Alice and 5 from Frank.  
“Fuck”, he repeated, “fuck fuck fucking fuck”. He had meant to meet Alice at the hospital as soon as she’d gone into labour. ‘You definitely shouldn’t drink on the days surrounding your friend’s due date’ He scolded himself, heaving himself off the mattress and looking around the dingy room he was in.

“Where the fuck am I?”

It was gloomy and cold, burlap stacks blowing against obviously empty window frames on one corner of the room. There was a doorway leading out, and he could hear the faint whistling of a kettle coming from that direction. The place was furnished, but it was clear the table, chairs and sofa had been taken from the street. The place was a tip, Remus almost recoiled at seeing all the drawers open and empty, clothes flung with reckless abandon across the floor. Looking back at the mattress he had slept on, stained and wet in one corner, the flowery pattern faded away, he very almost yelped. His jacket was rolled up at the top, he’d obviously used it for a pillow. He was wearing vaguely the same clothes as yesterday, or at least, the same trousers. The t shirt he was wearing was some disgusting mustard colour, with an off-brand Disney character on the front. He couldn’t read the writing upside down, but assumed from the size of the duck’s biceps (“should ducks even have biceps?” he thought), it said something misogynistic. 

Grabbing his jacket, he didn’t wait to find out who was boiling the kettle in the other room, and headed out of the door on the opposite wall he hoped led to a staircase. 

Out on the street he called Frank back.

“Dude where the hell have you been, Alice went into labour 3 hours ago you’re supposed to be here.”

“Sorry mate I just,” Remus considered telling Frank, but the memories of last night were still coming into focus and he couldn’t be bothered with a potential lecture. “Nowhere, I had a very deep sleep that’s all.”

“Alice even called your work you know.”

“My work?”

“Yeah your work, it’s Monday mate, we’ve never known you to be late to anything.”

Remus nearly screamed, Frank was right, he was never late to anything and here he was, walking down a highstreet way too busy for a Monday after not knowing who’s place he’d woken up in and how he’d even got there. He’d have to call in and apologise, come up with a lame excuse. He winced at the thought of lying to his boss.

“Sorry Frank, like I said I overslept. What hospital are you guys at? I’ll come meet you.”

“Kings”. A bus roared past Remus and he missed the name.

“Where?”

“Kings mate, come on where else would we be? Just get here quick”

Remus glanced up at the bus, trying to see if he could determine his whereabouts from the number. 363. 

“Fuck. Frank, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“You sure you’re at home?”

“Yes Frank I am, I’ve got to get dressed then I’ll meet you, text me the ward or whatever”

“Ok see you in a sec, hurry man Alice is yelling at me to get off the phone already, let me tell her its you quickly” Remus heard a muffled discussion before Frank’s voice came back into focus. “She says hello but to stop hogging her husband and get here, fast”

“OK Frank, see you there.”

Remus had finally figured out where he was, and had garnered some clues as to whose place he had woken up in. He only knew one person who lived near the 363 stop off this highstreet, fucking Peter. 

He jumped onto the 12 that had just pulled up, thankful his wallet and oyster were still in his jacket pocket. Sat down on the first seat he could find (not on the upper-deck, Remus never sat on the upper deck), he tried to piece together the events of last night. Mary had called him in the early evening, inviting him for drinks at the Whaling Banshee, and having not seen her for ages and the promise of no Peter, he had obliged. He remembered the first few pints, then the first few shots, then the karaoke, then Peter arriving. He vaguely remembered his yelling at Mary in the smoking area, she had promised him he wouldn’t be there, but for some reason he had shown up. Remus remembered her yelling back at him, and his absolute terror at this 5’6” ball of rage, but after a curt hello to Peter and another round of drinks everything became a blur. How had he ended up at Peter’s? Why had he ended up at Peter’s? He hadn’t even talked to the rat since uni, and certainly had never planned on talking to him ever again.

An old lady make a soft coughing noise from the seat opposite him. He realised he’d left his jacket open and she was staring at the shirt. It was way too small for Remus, almost cropped, and he almost laughed at how odd he must have looked with his combined outfit. His patched elbow jacket, skin tight cartoon top, dark green cords and thrifted black dress shoes, which now he looked closer were horribly muddy, with dried sick on the front of the left one. With a chuckle he realised he must have slept in his shoes. Just like Peter to refuse to touch another mans feet, he’s fine with living in a room without windows and a stained mattress but god forbid he has to take Remus’ shoes off. The lady was still staring at the writing on his top, Remus desperately wanted to know what the top said and opted to take a photo of it rather than strain his eyes looking down. 

’Smile sweetheart, loose the quackitude’

Remus actually groaned. Fucking Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings - Kings College Hospital  
> Oyster- A card specific to London Travel network, you put money on it and can tap it to readers to pay for your public transport journeys.
> 
> All my bus routes will be accurate thank you very much, and Remus is sat at the lower deck back where the seats face each other.


End file.
